Listen
by breathewithyou94
Summary: Quinn is in a coma after a car accident. This is what she hears. Future!fic Faberry


**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of its characters.**

* * *

It's dark.

For the longest time, it's silent, as well. Wait, no; not silent, because there's a sort of rhythm you can hear. A beeping. Like… like a pulse monitor.

You try to open your eyes, but you can't.

You try to feel around you, but you can't.

You're stuck. Paralyzed.

Fear grips you, and it's so strange; because your heartbeat should speed up with your fear. The beeping of the monitor, however, stays at that slow, steady pace.

_Beep. _

_Beep. _

_Beep._

You try to part your lips to take a deeper breath, but you can't do either one.

The door opens, and it startles you, even though you don't—_can't_—flinch. You want to open your eyes to see who it is. You hope that whoever it is will speak.

It's silent for a few more moments. No footsteps are being made—and then you hear it, the smallest, shakiest breath you've ever heard.

_Rachel._

Footsteps, now, and the sound of a chair being scraped across the floor. You try to picture her doing all of this, since you can't open your eyes to see for yourself. There's a soft _thud _that you imagine is her putting her purse on the floor, and then her hand is on yours.

You will yourself to hold hers back, but you can't. You just can't.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

She takes another deep breath before speaking.

"The last time we were in this position," she starts softly, "I told you I love you, and you didn't hear me." _No._ "So, I really don't know why I'm choosing to believe the doctors when they say that talking to you might help. It's rather silly of me, actually." _No, it's not. Listen to them._ "I guess I just need to do something for myself, you know? Maybe talking to you will help _me _get through this, too. That's what I'm hoping for, anyway." _Please, don't stop talking. Please._

_Beep._

_Beep._

She pauses, and you feel like you're waiting on her next words with baited breath—even though, clearly, you know you're still breathing regularly.

"God, what were you thinking, Quinn?" _I know. I'm sorry. _"What on earth would make you think it was okay to text and drive? After what you went through, last time?" _No, you don't understand. _"What could have been so important that you would risk that, again?"

_My boss had called me. I'd been waiting to hear back about that promotion. I just couldn't reach my phone. I'm sorry. _

Rachel sighs, gripping your hand tighter. "It—it doesn't matter, now. I can berate you when you're home, safe, and—and awake." You hear her sniffle, and you just _know _that she's trying to hold back tears. You wish so badly to be able to reach up and wipe her cheeks clear of them.

"April misses you." _April. _"She's having nightmares more often. I think she misses your lullabies." _Sweet, sweet girl. Please bring her to me. _"I'm debating on whether or not I should bring her to see you." _Please do. God, Rachel, please do. _"She's only four, you know, so I don't know what I would say to her. Santana says I should bring her in and just tell her you're sleeping. But I'm not sure, yet."_ Please, please bring me my daughter._

"Cameron is… having a harder time." _Oh, God._ "He's been really quiet, really withdrawn, since you've been…" _How long have I been here? _"I try to get him to talk to me, but he won't, not really. He talks to Brittany, but swears her to secrecy. I think he pretty much understands what's going on, though, even with me trying to keep him from the harsher information. Eight-year-olds can be very perceptive, you know." _I know my own children, Rachel. Don't let him stop soccer. _"He doesn't want to go to soccer practice." _Damn it, Rachel. _"He goes to kickboxing, still, though. I think it helps him let out his frustrations easier." _Okay. Okay, good. _

She strokes your thumb with her own as silence permeates the room again, alongside the constant beeping of the monitor. All of their faces run through your mind: Cameron and his shaggy, golden brown locks and bright, green eyes; and sweet, little April, with her Mommy's brown curls and brown eyes, her golden skin, and her show-stopping smile.

"Sometimes," Rachel starts again, "I wish that you had heard my confession, back then." _Rachel. _"I wish that, when you'd woken up, you would have found me as soon as you could and just—just kissed me. Told me that you loved me, too." _You don't get it. _You're starting to feel drowsy, though; you fight it to the best of your ability. "That would have—we would have had our entire lives together, then, instead of having to wait until after college to find each other again. So many wasted years…"

_I did hear you. I did love you back. I was a coward, that's why I never told you. I'm so sorry, Rachel. I'm so sorry._

You fall to the blackness again.

* * *

_Beep._

The banging on the door rouses you into consciousness, though you still cannot move. "You need to wake the fuck up, Q." It's Santana, now, and you've known her long enough know from her voice that she's crying. "Just wake the _fuck _up. It's been _weeks_ with this coma shit, and your family is falling to fucking _pieces_." Her voice cracks on the last word, and she collapses on top of you. Her face is on your stomach as she holds on to you for dear life. It literally pains you to not be able to hold her back, right now. "_I'm _falling to fucking—" Her sobs cut her off. You swear that if you could cry, right now, you would be bawling right along with her, because when Santana Lopez cries, something is seriously wrong.

_I'm trying. I'm sorry, San._

* * *

"It's been three months." The whispered words catch your attention, somehow. _How has it been three months? _"They can't—they need the space, baby." _Space? _"We have—we have to—I'm so sorry, baby." Wait. _No. _"I love you." _Rachel, don't. _"I love you, so much." _Please don't. I'm still here._

You fight with your body to move. Anything, any little movement that will alert to Rachel that you're alive, that you're still here.

"Rach, we have to step back." It's Brittany. Sweet Brittany. _Tell her, Britt. Tell her I'm still here. You can't do this. _"Rachel, we have to move out of the doctors' way." _No. Britt._

Rachel's sobs echo in the room. "Quinn, baby, please wake up. Come on, please." _I'm trying. _"Give me _anything_, _please_—" And you _are _trying, so, so hard. "_Please_, I love you." Rachel's sobs become uncontrollable, and you scream. You scream for her to hear you, but you know that she doesn't, and it makes you want to break down and cry. But you can't even do that, can you?

_Please don't do this._

_Beep. _

More sobs fill the room. "I'm so—so sorry, Q." _Santana. Please. You know I'm here. You know I wouldn't leave them like this. Please._

_Beep._

All three of them are crying now. You can hear each of their individual sobs amongst Rachel's constant repetition of "I love you".

_I love you, too._

"I love you, so much." _Beep…_

_Please don't do this._

_I'm still here._

…_beep…_

"I love you."

_I'm still here._

…_._


End file.
